Glad
by StephanieIrvine
Summary: She’d played the perfect wife, stayed in the background when commanded and spoke up when told. There was one time she spoke up without being told, he didn’t like that – the back hand across her face informed her of that. Kept her in line.


**A/N: **So, apparently I'm on a writing kick. I can live with that, I should be studying but I can live with it. Studying is boring anyway. This is a little darker and a hell of a lot more angsty than my usual stuff. So don't say I didn't warn you, 'cause I so did. So read and enjoy and leave a review.

**Disclaimer: **I have nothing to do with either Stephanie or Chris, they pretty much have everything to do with themselves, I'm just like borrowing them for a tiny little moment. Also the song lyrics in italic, they're not mine either, those are Kelly Clarkson song lyrics.

**Glad**

_"But I sit so patiently drenched in, _

_All of this shit, _

_I can't see no escape, _

_I'm ready now....come get me."_

She was sick of the dial tone. It was this monotonous mocking that she couldn't be doing with. She just needed someone to pick up. It wasn't happening it seemed, everyone else caught up in their own lives, too busy to deal with hers. Not that she mattered enough to factor as important in anyone else's life anyway, he'd drilled that into her enough times over the years, she guessed it stuck. She'd played the perfect wife, stayed in the background when commanded and spoke up when told. There was one time she spoke up without being told, he didn't like that – the back hand across her face informed her of that. Kept her in line.

It hadn't started out violent, no relationship does. They had been happy at one point in time, well she had been anyway, him on the other hand? Fuck if she knew. It wasn't like one day he was this stand up guy who loved her with all that he was and then the next his fist was flying towards her at an alarming speed that she couldn't miss. No, it wasn't like that at all – there was no Jekyll and Hyde in him and he was never sorry afterwards. There were no flowers or false apologies, no _'I'll never do it again, my hand will never touch you in anger. I love you! I'm _sorry!_' _– she figured right then should have been her out, but she was stupid and the next time he struck her, she tasted blood and _still_ didn't leave. It was her own fault, he let her know that daily. She had no savior, she had nothing, she was alone.

She didn't want to be alone.

He would be back soon, she'd have him.

She didn't want him.

He'd hurt her more and laugh. He always laughed and she always hid her cries.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

She looked at the phone in her hand, there was one more person she could call. He wasn't a last resort, he was her last hope. He'd told her to call anytime, he wasn't far away.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

He'd never hurt her, he held her once. It was so long ago she feared it might be a dream – it couldn't be though, she didn't dream anymore, she screamed in her sleep. Her fingers dialed his number but she hesitated before she hit call. Would he even remember, would he come, did he care?

_He's your last hope_. It echoed in her mind and she really didn't want a matching bruise on her other side, she'd had that already. Symmetrical was overrated.

She hit call.

The ringing mocked her some more and she heaved a sigh, apparently symmetrical was going to be her summer look this week.

Then the ringing stopped and there was a voice at the other end and she almost heaved another sigh, but this one in nothing but relief – she mattered.

"I'm ready now…come get me."

"_You look like a mess, _

_I'd like to know, _

_How about moving just a little closer _

_I think maybe one day I could..."_

She waited. The clock ticked on by and she waited some more. Watched the second hand work its way around that circle once, twice, three time and more. She was a patient person, so that's what she did, she waited.

She sat on a chair and didn't dare move. She knew he was coming, but she also knew _he _was coming – she just didn't know who would make it through the door first. Logic dictated one thing, but her heart hoped for the other. Hope never worked out usually and she guessed if she were ever to catch a break then now would be it. So, she waited.

Waiting tended to suck though, it gave her time to think. She may have been patient, but she hated thinking. Not that she couldn't, she hadn't fallen into line completely, no matter what he thought. She just hated thinking over how her life had come to be in this much dismay. When she did think, like she was thinking now, she was the common element. She'd let him hit her, she'd let him continue. She hadn't stopped him that first time, nor had she stopped him all those times after. She did what he told her too, she never told him no.

It was her fault.

The door opened.

The waiting was over.

"Stephanie?"

She was glad she'd dialed. She was glad he picked up. She was glad he was here.

She was just glad.

"I'm in here." She whispered, but he couldn't hear her. Her voice meek after holding her tongue for so long.

She looked up and there he was, looking at her. Her eyes held his and she could see. She could see the pity he held in them, the pity for her and her situation, the pity for the bruise across her face. The pity that he had to help her when he could be leading his own life without her messing it up. Maybe that wasn't pity, maybe it was annoyance. She just didn't want to hurt anymore, so she'd take his pity or his annoyance and pretend she didn't see it. She was good at pretending.

He came over to her and she didn't know what he was going to do. He kneeled in front of her and reached out, she flinched back. "It's okay," he whispered, his hand continuing to reach towards her. "I'd never hurt you. Not like he did." And he touched her and she didn't feel pain. It was strange. She'd almost forgot what it was like to feel, what was this? Comfort? She'd lived without it for so long, it was understandable – a kick to the stomach replaced a hug and a crack to the head replaced a kiss. You'd have to excuse her while she got up to speed again.

He didn't stop at just a touch, he pulled her towards him and his arms were around her and he was hugging her and she didn't know what to do, her arms lay limp at her side. Her chin rested on his shoulder and he was hugging her and she was just staring off into the distance and her arms stayed at her side. He was whispering to her, she couldn't understand what he was saying, but she could make out the odd word every now and again. Words like _okay_ and _safe_ and _trust_.

_Its okay Stephanie, you're safe, you can trust me._

He'd came to her when she'd asked him too. She could trust him.

Her eyes closed and her arms held onto him tight. "Thank you, Chris." She whispered, her voice still meek, but he heard her this time.

"_Is it over yet, _

_Can I open my eyes, _

_Is this as hard as it gets, _

_Is this what it feels like to really cry?"_

They were moving, she saw the scenery change in front of her, so she guessed they were moving. She thinks he took her in his arms and walked them both out of her life. She'd be a fool to say no, so she thinks she remembers telling him thank you more than once. Or maybe it was over and over? She can't remember, she just knows they're moving and the more they move the further away from her life she is. That makes her happy, if she still remembers what happy is. She thinks she remembers, and she's sure that the feeling in the pit of her stomach is happy, she knows it isn't dread, she'd used to dread and dread doesn't feel like that. So she thinks it's happy, but it could be relief or a million other things she hadn't felt for a long time. All she knows, is that it isn't dread and that's a change.

She looks at her hand and it's the first time she notices that he's holding her hand. She can't feel it in her own, but she'd numb – she has been for months and months – so she expected that, but it's nice that he's trying to comfort her even if she can't feel it. Maybe it wasn't pity? She doesn't know, but she knows this is all her own fault. She accepts that, but still, it's nice to know that she matters somewhat in another person's life.

They're still moving and she doesn't know where they're going and that should scare her, she barely knows Chris after all, but he saved her and she'd follow him anywhere. She's glad he left his wrist tape behind that one night and saw her cry. She didn't tell him a thing, but she's glad he saw her cry. She's glad he told her he could call any time she wanted. She's glad she called.

"Is it over?" Her voice is hoarse, she hasn't spoke this much in a long time and her body isn't used to forming words. It's used to screams, but not words. It wanted to scream words, words like _'Paul stop! It hurts, please don't! I'll be good.' _She'd tried too once, but he hit harder. She'd learned. She screwed her eyes shut at the memory, felt the blows all over again. Her hand tightened in Chris's and he looked over and her eyes opened when he called her name. His voice was soft, gentle. She wasn't used to gentle, she wasn't used to not being yelled at.

He told her she was safe again, and she was starting to believe that. His thumb started stroking her hand, to comfort her some more and she wished she could feel it, take the comfort he offered so freely, but she was still numb. She could feel pressure where his thumb moved back and forth and she figured that was something at least. Maybe she was starting to thaw. Maybe the hurt would melt away? It was wishful thinking, but she hadn't lasted this long without it.

"You can cry you know." Chris speaks and his smile is soft and she wants to. "It's okay to cry."

Paul said tears were a weakness and she had plenty. So she stopped. She bit down on her lip until she drew blood, but she didn't let a tear pass, she wouldn't let him see her cry anymore. It anything it made him hurt her harder, she guessed he wanted to see how much it would take to break her. Didn't he know he'd broken her that first time? Didn't he know that all he was doing was smashing the broken pieces to powder? She thinks he did, he just didn't care enough to stop, that it'd become such a routine that if he didn't then it'd be as if he didn't _care_. She sorta wishes he didn't care, then she might have been able to piece the pieces together. No matter how cracked and ruined they were.

She looked at Chris and she could see him, she could see he was one of the good guys. Saw that even if he got really angry, he'd never raise a hand to any woman no matter how pissed they made him. That was the difference between Chris and Paul – Chris would never raise his hand in anger, but that was all Paul ever did. Chris was kind and his touch was light on her hand. Paul was cruel and his touch was breaking. Wait, Chris's touch was light? She looked at her hand and watched. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Stop. Repeat. She felt it and that's when she showed her weakness.

Her tears flowed and Chris's hand tightened on her hand.

She felt that as well.

"_I'm talking in circles, _

_I'm lying they know it, _

_Why won't this just all go away?"_

They weren't moving anymore, they'd stopped and he'd took her into his home. She hadn't realized they'd stayed so close. She hadn't known he'd moved to Connecticut. She was glad he had. That wasn't the point, the point was that they weren't moving, the point was that they were sitting on his sofa and he was still holding her hand and she was still crying. Only she was crying, literally, on his shoulder and his arm was holding her to him. She felt him rub her arm in an attempt to sooth her. It was weird, feeling, especially when she was so used to numb. She wouldn't trade feeling for numb though. She didn't like what numb reminded her of, feeling on the other hand, it reminded her of safe. It reminded her of Chris.

"Can you talk about it?"

Simple question. Not so simple answer. Could she talk about it? Could she remember all the times Paul's fists flew into her, all the times he laughed at her as she lay there silent. Could she remember them without feeling each blow all over again?

"He liked to hurt me." She told him quietly. "It relaxed him, he said once." She commented idly as if just remembering that he had said that. It flashed in her mind and she remembered it all over again. Scurried back, away from Chris and braced for an impact that was never going to come. She knew she had issues, it was blatant. Looking at Chris, he knew how blatant it was as well. "Over and over. Some nights he just wouldn't stop."

He pulled her back to him and held her. She was glad he did because she wasn't sure she could take not being comforted now that she could feel.

"I wanted him to stop but he wouldn't and I'd have to feel each hit for hours." She thinks it was hours, it could have been minutes, but she thinks it was hours. Hours and minutes tended to blend together back then, but she was patient, she could wait it out. She wouldn't cry and he couldn't break her anymore than she already was. He'd try but she wouldn't cry.

She felt Chris's fingers on her cheek and she looked up at him. His fingers were wet with her tears. "I didn't cry." She whispered her voice almost silent. "I wouldn't let him see me cry. He'd just hurt me more."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead and Stephanie's eyes slide to a close, she'd forgotten what a kiss felt like. When Chris pulled away, Stephanie looked at him once again and she felt herself lean in. She didn't mean to kiss him, but she had. It wasn't a desperate kiss where she needed to feel something, she felt, she had feeling back. It was just a kiss, a simple kiss that lasted for a moment or two, so she could remember the feeling of lips that were soft and not harsh with the lingering after effect of the words they had just sneered her way.

She was still crying when she pulled back and Chris was still holding her, she was grateful for that he did. "Sorry." She whispered and he told her it was okay, that it wasn't her fault. But it was. It all was. She brought this all on herself.

She doesn't know if Chris can read minds or not, but he was pretty good at reading hers. "None of this is your fault Stephanie. None." He stressed and pulled back so he was staring her straight in the eye, like that would make his words more of a truth. Stephanie didn't think that it worked like that. "It's Paul's, you know that right?"

"Yes." She whispered, her voice timid. She was lying and she knew he knew she was lying.

He brought a hand up and she didn't flinch, she didn't flinch when he slid a hand up her neck and she didn't flinch when he cupped her chin and moved her head up so she was looking directly at him. "Paul is to blame Stephanie. You're innocent."

How could she be innocent if she let him do it? How could it not be her fault, she never said stop. He never let her say stop, he'd hurt her more if she said stop. It was her fault right? Because she didn't say no? But she couldn't say no, so it wasn't her fault if she couldn't say no.

She was confused and lost.

"Why won't this just all go away?"

He hugged her to him, and she cried some more, but she wasn't sure if this was her fault. It might not have been.

"_I wish I save you_

_I wish I could say to you_

_I'm not going nowhere _

_I wish I could say to you_

_It's gonna be alright."_

She couldn't cry anymore. Not that she was stopping herself from, she'd just ran out of tears. She didn't think that was possible with the amount she'd stopped, but they had and now she was just resting her head on Chris's chest. She could hear his heartbeat. His t-shirt was wet, but he didn't seem to care, he just held her hand and ran his fingers through her hair. It was relaxing she found and it was different – she was used to being tense, like a tight coil that was moments from snapping. She had snapped, well her bones had, so she preferred relaxed.

She felt him shift below her and her free hand gripped his t-shirt tight to stop him from leaving. She needed him, he couldn't get up and leave her. She was starting to panic.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered into her ear and his voice soothed her. "I'm staying right here."

She felt herself calm at his words and she was glad he wasn't going anywhere. She was glad about a lot of thing tonight: that someone picked up, that he came through the door, that she'd called. She was just glad. She felt like she was repeating herself, but she was. Though she was starting think that maybe glad was too simple a word. Her brain was still hazy and glad was all she could come up with, so she'd stick with that.

"It's gonna be alright."

She looked up at Chris and at his hand that still hadn't left hers, not for a moment and she believed that.

Maybe he was glad he'd saved her.

**End**


End file.
